


Filters

by Nlexe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming of Age, Manga Spoilers, Multi, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nlexe/pseuds/Nlexe
Summary: People grow, and people change. It's tough and it hurts but flowers can grow though the cracks so long as one lets them.





	1. Chapter 1

     “What are you doing here?”

     “A-ah, well… isn’t it lights out?”

     “Yeah.”

     “So-”

     “Go back inside, Yachi.”

     Save for the low hum of the porch light and the chirp of the cicadas, the late summer night was suffocatingly silent.

     Yachi, still standing in the doorway, leaned back on her heels and bit her lip. Another moment passed before she rocked forward onto her toes and stepped forward, abandoning the air-conditioned dorm and softly closing the door behind her. Though her steps were hesitant, they still pulled her to the porch steps. She sat down on the top step and let herself look around Shinzen’s quad before settling to stare at her lap.

     When Kageyama had heard the door click into place, he had both hoped and assumed Yachi had gone back inside, leaving him to brood on the steps until even he couldn’t stand to be with himself any longer, where then he would finally get up and resign himself to his futon. He meant no offense to Yachi; it’s just what everyone else had always done. He’d gotten used to that reaction, or lack thereof, and in time, preferred it. But that was no longer an option when he heard the soft pad of feet become louder-not quieter-and felt Yachi sit down next to him. He suppressed his huff of annoyance, but said nothing. After another awkward moment or so passed, he glanced at Yachi out of the corner of his eye.

     Yachi was, Kageyama noted, too focused on staring at her hands, which she clasped together every few seconds, to notice Kageyama looking at her. He doubted she’d even turn her head even if she had noticed. Yachi was biting her lip, too, and Kageyama briefly wondered if she was struggling to not bolt back inside. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He focused his gaze back to the sidewalk that laid at the bottom of the steps, frowning just a bit more.

     Different clichés and words of encouragement ran through Yachi’s mind as the silence dragged on. She cringed when she thought of a particularly bad one. There was no use in her trying to gloss over the incident in the gym, not when its precursor over a week prior was still unresolved. And yet there was no use in her sitting pathetically silent, either. The thought of running back inside did occur to Yachi, if only to come back with someone who could handle all of this much better than she currently was.

     But the matter of the fact was that Yachi, not Shimizu, or Daichi, or anyone else, was the one sitting on the steps of Shinzen High School in the middle of a summer night next to Kageyama, who still carried the remnants of a bruise on his cheek and still had a troubled look in his eyes. She was the one sitting here, and no one else. She wasn’t going to run. For once she wasn’t going to squeak out an excuse and retreat. Distantly, she wondered if this is what her teachers and mother were always talking about, even if the importance of the event didn’t quite match up with their words.

     Maybe Yachi couldn’t say anything of use to Kageyama, and maybe she wouldn’t be able to stop fidgeting with nervous energy until this whole moment passed, but she wouldn’t leave him to sit out in this oppressive summer night alone. Not after today, not after last week. Baby steps, these are baby steps, baby st-

     “Yachi,” said Kageyama, clearing his throat. “You-uh, you really don’t have to be here.”

     “Huh? Oh,” said Yachi, startled, briefly casting Kageyama a glance, before looking back down at her hands. “Well, maybe that’s true. Its not like you’re, uh, sneaking out to go do… well I don’t know. And the door is unlocked, so you don’t really need me to unlock it for you. But I do need to lock it when you come back in _so in a way_ -”

     Yachi cut off her rambling when Kageyama gave a frustrated, and almost resigned, sigh. She watched as he forced himself to look at her but failed to keep the squeak rising in her throat from escaping. She, however, didn’t fail to notice the slight widening of Kageyama’s eyes, nor the speed at which he averted his gaze. Yachi waited, but when it became apparent that Kageyama was going to stay silent, she tried again.

     “Kageyama, I know you may not need me here right now, not for some certain things, not like to make sure you don’t run off or anything,” she said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

     “So why are you?” Kageyama said, making an effort to try to mask the natural gruffness of his voice. It ended up sounding both frustrated and tired.

     “Because you’re upset.”

     Kageyama bristled. Yachi had said it so simply, so affirmatively, as if that made it all the more obvious. Annoying. He didn’t understand it, and so he didn’t respond. 

     After a beat, Kageyama glanced over at Yachi only to see she was looking at him—really looking at him. Had that been it, he would have eventually just ignored her and refused to answer her again until even she went back inside. But that wasn’t it, and Kageyama became defensive because of it.

     He wasn’t sure which was worse to see on Yachi’s face: the surprised and fearful look from before (the one she wore since she had met him), or the look of gentle-and almost tired-pity that she wore now. It was the look his mother gave him when he was a child and he had smiled, excitedly pointing to the television screen, exclaiming that the everyone would be alright because look, the boat is turning away from the iceberg, don’t you see. It was the look his teacher gave him after he had finally got his answer as to why Kageyama had simply stopped trying. It was the look given to stupid, naïve, and hopeless children. And Kageyama had been on the receiving end of it too often for his liking, especially recently. It was only due to that look being worn by Yachi that Kageyama’s instinct to fight back was not as strong as it would be. But it was still very much there. While he tried to not scowl too deeply, Yachi’s words had struck him in a way that just couldn’t soften the bite of his retort.

     “What- Why- Look, just stop it! If you’re just gonna sit there and, and look at me like that then go back inside! I don’t need-”

     Kageyama hadn’t planned on stopping his tirade, though in all fairness, he didn’t know where it was going to go or when it would end. But he had realized what he was about to say, and while it was the truth, even to his ears it sounded horribly cliché and childish. It also gave him the sickening feeling that Yachi, no matter how timid she was, would latch on to it and use it to keep the conversation (if it could even be called that) going. The last thing he wanted, Kageyama thought to himself, was Yachi trying to play therapist. Most of Kageyama’s conversations—he could almost hear Tsukishima cackling in his futon—since the start of school, since Karasuno, since Hinata, ended up in a fumbled attempt at forced introspection.

     “I d-didn’t mean to…” started Yachi. She trailed off as she saw Kageyama suddenly close his eyes and lean his head forward, supporting his head with the palm of his hand. 

     Kageyama, Yachi dimly noticed, had subconsciously avoided the bruised side of face, giving Yachi a much better look at the injury. The yellow porch light made the bruise appear much more prominent than it had been looking the past week. It was smaller now, and the worst of it was going away, but the center of it was still very dark. She hadn’t got to see Kageyama afterward that night in the gym, not after Tanaka had finally wrestled Hinata and Kageyama away from each other. She was too busy patching up Hinata and pretending not to see the tears in his eyes. By the time she was done, Kageyama and Tanaka had left. She hadn’t thought about it then, but now, seeing Kageyama slumped forward, still agitated, and still bruised, she wondered if maybe she should have had Tanaka patch up Hinata instead.

     Yachi changed tactics.

     “I don’t know much about volleyball. But I’m learning, and I’ve noticed that the setter is like the lead designer,” she saw Kageyama open his eyes, but he kept his gaze forward. “That’s what my mom is: a graphic designer. She’s good at it, which is why she’s the lead. Kindof like you. She comes up with the next steps for the project, and plans for any problems that might come up.”

     Kageyama didn’t move except to sit up straighter. Yachi powered on.

     “You choose the toss, right? And I bet there’s a lot of other stuff that goes into that, right? My mom has to think about who the target audience is,” Yachi paused when she saw Kageyama furrow his brows. “Basically she has to think about who they’re trying to get to look at the poster. And then she makes decisions based on what would get that specific group of people to be interested in whatever it is they’re trying to sell.” 

     Yachi hoped that what she was saying was making sense, and took Kageyama’s slightly-less-deep-frown as reassurance that it was.

     “Which is what you do, I think? You have to see who is where and you have to think about what they’re gonna do, and that’s how you decide how the toss is gonna be,” she looked over at Kageyama, and took his silence as a yes. She figured he would correct her if she was wrong. “There are some things only my mom can do. And there are only some things you can do. A lot of people rely on my mom, to make sure things get done and get done right and all that. And a lot of people rely on you.” 

     “B-but it’s still a team effort.”

     That got Kageyama to look at Yachi properly.

     “…right?” Yachi squeaked. She really needed to figure out what was Kageyama’s actual glare and what was his confused face before she died of a heart attack just shy of 16 years old. 

     “But I- I know that,” Kageyama huffed, glaring at the the space in between him and Yachi, unsure if she could hear the unsaid ‘I know that now.'

     “I know that. It’s just- Hinata, he wanted… wants—to do something he’s not ready for. We just don’t have time for him to try any dumbass move he wants, not when he has other shit to work on, not when we have the prelims starting next month.”

     “Yeah-”

     “I just- I don’t get it! Why is he being so, so-”

     “Kageyama,” Yachi interrupted. “The graphic design analogy, that was making sense, right?”

     She only received a glare—no, that was his thinking and confused face—in return.

     “M-me comparing my mom’s job to what you do in volleyball, t-that made sense,” she paused, waiting for some confirmation that she had gotten through to him. Kageyama’s eyes lit up slightly in understanding. He nodded. Yachi shifted so she was facing him better and began gesturing with her hands. “When you’re altering, uh, changing a photo, there’s tons of filters and effects you can use, yeah? And some filters are better at changing the photo—better at giving you the effect you want—than others.”

     Yachi spoke slowly, letting Kageyama—who was still glaring something fierce and would he just stop for one minute—have time to process what she was saying. He would nod slightly, whether for Yachi’s sake or his, she didn’t know, but it was good enough for her to keep talking. 

     “Like, black and white is much better if you want people to get an old-timey feel than if you made the picture more vibrant, brighter. There’s tons of other filters and effects and modes but that’s not really important. But what if, what if you wanted to change the look of a picture,” she paused again. 

     Kageyama rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Change the look of a picture. Okay…”

     Yachi was still holding her hands out, almost as if she was placating a wild animal, begging it to not charge at her, “What if you wanted to change the look of a picture, and so you used a filter. But it didn’t give you the look you wanted. And nothing you did, no settings, no filter, and no effect could give you the look you wanted. You know using those filters could give them the look and feel you were going for, but for some reason they just won’t get the job done. What would you do?”

     “Uh... Change the…- change…?”

     Kageyama fumbled a bit more, not that Yachi was really surprised. He clearly wasn’t going to get the answer.

     “You’d change the picture itself,” supplied Yachi.

     “Isn’t that the same as adding a filter?”

     “No.”

 _Dear God_ , Kageyama, thought. He didn’t _know_ , he didn’t care. If he answered would she go away, or keep on talking? Kageyama prayed for the former. He clenched his teeth. “O-o-okay then. What? What would you do?” 

     “You’d use camera raw.” 

     Kageyama nearly screamed into his hands. ‘Camera raw,’ what the hell was that? Sure, he wasn’t the brightest but who the hell would know that? Okay, maybe Yachi, and her mom, but other than that who else? What the hell did that even mean? ‘Camera raw.’ Really, was being alone too much to ask for nowadays? He hadn’t meant to stay out even this long when he was sure no one, especially Yachi, would join him. What was she trying to get from this? What did she want? She was just dragging the night out at this point. And the last thing Kageyama would ever let her do is give her the sick satisfaction of thinking she somehow got through to him and changed him and made him—

     “I don’t-! Look, Yachi,” Kageyama ground out. “Just-”

     “You’re the camera raw!”

     “What?”

     Was the porch shaking? Maybe it was the world? Maybe there was an earthquake and a large trench would split Shinzen in half and Yachi would just fall right down into it. How deep would it be? Would it hurt a lot? Oh, God, she hadn’t even been the official volleyball manager for a day yet, what would her mother think—

     “Yachi,” Kageyama said evenly. He tried hard to keep his voice down this time.

     Instinctively, Yachi held out her hands. She doubted it worked in placating Kageyama to any degree, but it was all she could think to do. Whatever confidence she had found and used earlier was gone. Her hands shook and any blood that hadn’t run cold at the glare Kageyama was giving her was all in her face. She stumbled over her words and Kageyama couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. She let herself take a few stuttered breaths before explaining her outburst in a rush.

     “C-c-camera raw. It-it’s not a filter people use, b-but a way of shooting. You see, uh, you know when you take a picture? Right? When you take a picture with a camera you can take the picture in camera raw—so like an in-camera or in-photo setting—so that w-when you change it up later in Photoshop, you don’t hafta worry about some of the filters not working or not giving you the look you want ‘cause the original photo was taken in weird lighting or whatever. You d-don’t have to worry b-because taking a picture in camera raw lets you go back to the original photo and alter it so that when you go back to edit it, with other effects or layers or filters, you can make it just how you like without hitting a dead end, of sorts. T-the point is… uh, you’re the camera raw. In that practice match, the one against Seijou? Hinata’s spike kept getting blocked, right? Even when the toss and his run up to it was perfect, right?”

     The murderous look in Kageyama’s eyes was gradually fading away, though Yachi was still unsettled. If the ground would like to open up and swallow her that would be much more preferable than to keep blabbering on and on about something she wasn’t even sure Kageyama wasn’t following. She steeled herself anyway.

     “Wouldn’t it b-be better to be able to change the filter, to change the spike, any way you would like? Well, Hinata, I mean. Wouldn’t it be better to toss the ball in a way that would let Hinata spike it in a bunch of different ways, in case the other team suddenly changes their block or he thinks it’s going to get stopped?” 

     Gradually, beneath the fully black sky and the yellow glare of the porch light, Kageyama looked more awake than he had all day.

     “Ukai… that’s what-” Kageyama trailed off, deep in thought but with a bright look in his eyes.

     Whatever it was that Kageyama had just figured out, Yachi didn’t know. But that was okay, it wasn’t for her to understand, anyhow. She let him run through everything she had said for another minute before speaking again, though this time her words didn’t stutter as much and were gentler, not rushed or lacking in confidence.

     “I think… I think there was more to what Hinata said than you realized, Kageyama,” she offered.

     Kageyama eye’s drew together, his nose scrunching up, before it washed away and he looked angry again. “Wh- That- that dumbass doesn’t know anything! Just ‘cause he thinks I tossed to him in a way like before doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean-!”

     He hesitated for a moment before adding. “I try, the dumbass knows that, dammit! I always try.”

     He was still angry, but Kageyama couldn’t help notice how the fire in his words simmered from a raging flame to a low, steady burn. When Kageyama’s own words reached his ears, he couldn’t help wincing; as long as Yachi didn’t hear that last bit, or, if she had, hopefully she hadn’t read to much into it. It was stupid, so, so stupid. He really hoped she hadn’t heard that. But a small part of him also sort of hoped she had, annoyingly enough.

     Yachi’s eyes didn’t leave Kageyama, who was now steadfastly staring out at Shinzen’s quad, though its sidewalks and lawn chairs were no longer visible due to the blanket of night that had settled before either one could notice. She had heard him. She had, and she didn’t realize that she also hadn’t, in a way. One can only read between the lines when they know to look, and know where to look. And Yachi didn’t.

     “I meant from two weeks ago,” Yachi corrected. “That night in the gym, Hinata wasn’t thinking about how his greed could, and would, affect the team, or how time was also a problem. Just… from what he was saying, I got the feeling that it was more than what you might have heard. I-I’m not saying you were wrong, Kageyama, but I think Hinata was—is—so desperate to improve is ‘cause he didn’t want you, or the rest of the team, to leave him behind. 

     “Leave him behind?” Kageyama parroted, his brows knitting together. “Why the hell would that dumbass think that? We’re not… I’m not…” 

     Panic suddenly wormed its way through Kageyama’s chest. It was slow-building and faint, but it was still there. Later on in the night, he would wonder how he hadn’t noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that Yachi’s eyes were trained on him, or that he was being eaten alive by the bugs—Nekoma’s setter really wasn’t exaggerating. But if there was one thing Kageyama was sure of, it was that he felt like he should say something. What he should say exactly, he didn’t have a clue. But he did know that whatever it was, it wasn’t for Yachi. And, troubling enough, Kageyama wasn’t sure if Hinata was the only one who needed to be reassured with the words he had still yet to come up with.

     But of course, Kageyama, being Kageyama and all, smothered that feeling before it could grab his attention. At least for now. 

     “The only reason he’ll get left behind is if he doesn’t work on his shit right now! His receives are non-existent, he always wants to be in the spotlight—you saw how he collided with Azumane. His serves are shit and half the time he messes up the timing and position of the blocks. Even if I didn’t want him to improve, I need him to, the team needs him to,” he barked. It was obvious, so obvious. Even Yachi had to see that.

     “I know, I know. But he didn’t hear that. When he heard you say no, he was only thinking about how the only problem with the quick was that he needed to improve. So when he heard ‘no’ all he heard was ‘no, you’re not allowed to improve.’ It didn’t matter if you said that or not, meant that or not, it’s what he heard.”

     “But—but, he’s the stupid shit for thinking I want to hold him back, for thinking I _would_ hold him back."

     “Because he’s stubborn! He was hurt, and stubborn. Like you!”

     A moment passed. Then another. And then another.

     The constant chirp of the cicadas, nearly deafening a short while ago, vanished. The light above might as well have blown out; its heavy hum was no longer filling in the quiet moments of the night that the cicadas missed.

     A lifetime passed.

     “Oh.”

     All the air in Yachi’s lungs left her, though she honestly swore she had stopped breathing long beforehand. She slumped over in relief, trying to steady her breathing and wiped the sweat that had collected on her forehead. She could hear Kageyama shift in his spot on the step. He wasn’t saying anything, but she didn’t need to look up at him to know that his mouth was opening and closing in a silent retort he wasn’t sure of. She didn’t sit back up until she calmed down her racing heart a moment later.

     He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. He couldn’t say anything, and he didn’t want to, anyway. The air, too hot and humid for the late night hour, was a crushing weight on Kageyama’s chest, one that he only now just felt. Arms hung limp on his knees and a question in his chest formed, though he didn’t voice it. He let the weight of it add to the heaviness he already felt.

     “I-I don’t know,” Yachi softly said. She didn’t know why she cut it off right there. ‘I don’t know,’ she berated herself, it could mean anything. And Kageyama hadn’t even said anything. But she knew what she meant. She had a feeling Kageyama did too. Or, at the very least, she hoped he did. “I don’t know. But I’ll help, if I can. If you want.” 

     Kageyama swiveled his head to look over at Yachi. He averted his gaze back to his lap. He wanted to thank her, but his chest felt heavy and he couldn’t. He was probably wrong, but he held on to the feeling that Yachi didn’t need to hear him say it. That she wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. It was nothing against her, but he still couldn’t actually say it, for whatever reason.

     Now that the fear from before had subsided, Yachi let her eyes roam over Kageyama’s face.

     As expected, Kageyama was still glaring. Thankfully, it wasn’t directed at Yachi. He was probably thinking about what Hinata had said during the game earlier—that Kageyama doubted himself—and what Hinata had accused him of that night in the gym, letting it all run through him mind for the millionth time. Though now, with a slightly different perspective. She hoped so, at least. Kageyama’s eyebrows were drawn together, Yachi noted, and his mouth was a cross between a scowl and a pout. She made a mental note to remember that this face, the one she had seen multiple times tonight, was confused and worn out Kageyama, not ‘I’m-going-to-throw-you-off-the-porch’ Kageyama.

     Before Yachi had intruded onto Kageyama’s brooding session, Kageyama thought ruefully, he wasn’t thinking about the fight, the one weeks ago and the one hours earlier in the gym. Not much, really. He had been staring off into space, stewing about what Hinata had said while also not thinking about Hinata or anything else at all. During that precious alone time, he had come to a few conclusions, none of which offered much comfort:

     Kageyama was a good setter, he knew that. He told Hinata he’d be invincible so long as Kageyama was at his side. And he was still there, always ready and willing to give Hinata the toss he needed, the toss he craved, the toss that worked. But that’s not what Oikawa said he was doing. But it’s what their quick required, how could Hinata not see that? It’s what worked, it’s the reason why the freak quick worked in the first place… right? Or, how could Hinata see all that, but still think Kageyama couldn’t continue to deliver? Or maybe it’s a matter of will, and not ability. Kageyama wasn’t sure which he hated more.

     Kageyama’s skills and composure as an athlete were being questioned (by everyone, his subconscious emphasized), and that would bother him enough, to be sure. And then he would go into the gym tomorrow and use that to fuel his workout. That’s what he normally would do. But this time that didn’t seem right and now he just didn’t know. This time, he didn’t know what to do with his wounded pride because there was this nagging feeling that he owed Hinata something. That irked him more than anything. 

     Then Ukai had suggested—told him was more accurate—to try out a different toss. A toss that stops. He hadn’t quite been sure what Ukai meant. Mechanically, yes. Ukai wanted a toss that would somehow drop straight down after reaching its highest point, which would be Hinata’s hand. Theoretically, though, Kageyama was completely lost. And it showed. And it showed even more so when he hesitated earlier and had reverted back to their freak quick. Their _old_ freak quick, it was beginning to seem.

     But now… a toss that stops. Camera raw. A toss that _stops_.

     Even when they had done everything right, the toss kept getting stopped. Even when the picture had the filter it needed, it didn’t look right. _But a toss that stops… but with camera raw…_ A toss that could be altered for any play… A picture whose settings could be altered to serve the filter better…

     Kageyama forced himself out of his thoughts. Without thinking, he glanced at Yachi. She was now leaning against the railing and not looking back at him. Kageyama thought about everything he had been turning over his in mind, everything he expected to hear… and she hadn’t say any of that. Actually, she had said the opposite, if anything. He couldn’t tell if he was grateful, or annoyed. He decided to be both.

     Sighing inaudibly, he tore his gaze away to glare at his hands once more. He really was a volleyball idiot. A stubborn, volleyball idiot, as Yachi expressed. He felt indebted to Yachi. More so than before. It seemed like the world was forcing him to start relying on everyone around him since Kitagawa Daiichi. The idea itself pissed him off to no end. What was even worse was that it didn’t seem like it would stop. Kageyama didn’t want to ask himself if he would stop it, if given the option, that is. Which he _wasn’t._

     Kageyama sat up straight and stretched his back, subtly glancing back over at Yachi. Her eyes were starting to stay shut a little longer every time she blinked. He’d already taken way her free time for study help, along with a few years off her life—if the look on her face after his fight with Hinata and during their conversation tonight were of any indication. He wasn’t going to take any more of the night away from her. 

     “’M tired,” mumbled Kageyama, standing up as he did so. “Uh, you-uh…”

     “Hmm? Oh!” Yachi’s eyes few open and she scrambled to stand up. “I think I’ll come inside too, then.” 

     With that the two made their way inside. After an awkward exchange of apologies and a shuffling of the feet, Kageyama walked inside with Yachi holding the door open for him. Once inside he moved out of the way so Yachi could lock the door. Should he leave, or should he wait? He really was tired. The practices, the efforts he put in to ignore Hinata, who seemed to easily be ignoring him, not that Kageyama _minded_ , and now this talk with Yachi, it was all starting to get to him. But this is what guys do, right? He already mucked up the door thing just a moment ago. Really, why had she held it open for him, and insisted she did so, even when she looked deathly pale when he held the door in place? But anyway, this is what friends do, right? Not like they _were_ friends. No, Kageyama barely knows her. Hinata would probably call her a friend. And Hinata was his friend, kindof, or Kageyama had been on the way to becoming friends with him. And Hinata had always waited for him after practice so they could walk home together. So it was kindof the same. But Hinata probably wouldn’t wait for him anymore-

     “K-Kageyama…?”

     “Huh, oh, uh, yeah…” Kageyama replied, lamely. He stopped shifting his weight from foot to foot—when had he started?—and met Yachi’s eyes before turning his head to look at the wall.

     “I’m, uh… g’night,” Yachi said, smiling slightly, before she started making her way down the hall to where she, Shimizu, and the other managers were sleeping. 

     Kageyama watched her walk away for a few seconds before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and stalking off to the room Karasuno was sleeping in.

     Getting to the Karasuno team room without being detected was easy enough. Navigating through the room itself, however, proved to be both tricky and perilous. Kageyama nearly stepped on and tripped over all four of Nishinoya’s limbs. How the smallest member took up most of the floor space, Kageyama didn’t know. When he finally got to his futon, Kageyama laid down as quietly as he could. After settling in he belatedly realized he was looking straight at Hinata’s back. Kageyama frowned. Of course. Of course he had forgotten that the on the first day the second years, who were more hands on with their interference than the third years, had claimed their spots first, conveniently forming a square-type perimeter, forcing Kageyama and Hinata to sleep next to each other. They probably thought forced company would make them make up faster. Kageyama snorted. All it did was cause either him or Hinata to go to sleep early, so as one wouldn’t be forced to chat with or acknowledge the other. 

     But of course Kageyama had forgotten that. And of course Hinata was able to sleep peacefully. He wouldn’t lose any sleep over their fight, over what he had said earlier. Over what Kageyama had said. Over Kageyama.

     That train of thought was dangerous. Even a stubborn volleyball idiot like Kageyama recognized that. Why it was dangerous exactly was something Kageyama didn’t quite know. And he didn’t want to find out. He relied on his instincts more so than anything, and his instincts told him to turn around. So, he did. 

     Before drifting off to sleep, Kageyama thought of two things: the first being how Yachi had even found him sitting outside on the porch. There was no reason why she would be on that side of the dorm, not at that hour. Maybe he would ask her, he thought, knowing full well he wouldn’t. His second thought was how he hoped he would never have to endure a talk like that again. Really, it was too tiring.

 

     The sound of muffled cursing had lulled Hinata out of his slumber, but it hadn’t been enough to fully wake him up. The creaking of the futon next to him a few minutes later failed to do so as well, though he was becoming more aware of his own consciousness. It wasn’t until Hinata felt the heavy weight of eyes on him that he really woke up. He laid still for a short while, knowing it was just his mind playing a trick on him. He was in an unfamiliar place, and at night, too. He was bound to be jumpy. He waited a couple of minutes before slowly rolling over.

     “ _Kageyama’s back_ ,” thought Hinata. “ _I’m looking at Kageyama’s back_.” 

     Hinata stared blankly until he remembered he was still mad. He frowned and squinted his eyes, daring Kageyama to wake up and turn to face him. But of course Kageyama didn’t. Of course not. Kageyama had vanished after showering like the big idiot he is and Hinata didn’t mean anything more to Kageyama than just a player that could help them win, sorta. Just like the _big, dumb idiot_ he is. But that was fine. Totally and completely fine. It was so fine it was mind-boggling.

     As the minutes dragged on and Kageyama was still showing no signs of turning around to meet Hinata’s gaze, which now burned with more unshed tears than anger, Hinata turned back around. He hiked the blanket closer to his chin. Though he was now staring at Narita’s face, mouth open, drool and all, his mind was still stuck on Kageyama. Because of course Kageyama slipped into the room when he—no, they, he meant they—were all asleep. Because of course Kageyama fell asleep with his back to Hinata. And of course Hinata just had to wake up to see it. Of course. Of course.


	2. Chapter 2

     It wasn’t until the last stragglers in the school hallway had left for lunch that Kageyama let himself kick the vending machine in frustration. There was no need to be unnecessarily violent in front of his classmates, even _if_ the vending machine ate his coins and Daichi had forbad him from extra practice, both during lunch and after their night practice. He glowered at the precariously sitting milk through the glass, willing it to fall down. He raised his foot back and upwards to give the machine another swift kick when he felt a presence walk up and plant itself right next to him.

     Kageyama directed his angry scowl from the vending machine to the newcomer. His eyes widened when he saw Hinata standing next to him, one hand holding onto the strap of his bag and the other clutching his own money. He didn’t quite seem surprised to see Kageyama, though his eyes did widen as he saw just who was the tall figure in front of the vending machine was. Hinata’s leg stiffened and acting as if to back up, but he fought against it. Avoiding Kageyama like this sucked, but he didn’t really know how to act around him anymore. Or, at least, for the time being. Hinata _hoped_ this all was for the time being.

     Neither said anything to each other. Kageyama directed his gaze downwards to the vending machine slot, wishing the milk would magically be released and he could grab it and run. Without Kageyama looking right at him, Hinata was able to stare at Kageyama’s profile. Kageyama felt his eyes on him, but refused to look at the cold look he just knew Hinata was sporting, doing little to mask his disappointment. If he had turned to look at Hinata, he would have realized he was wrong.

     Another moment passed before Kageyama grudgingly stepped back and off to the side, feeling tied to the vending machine—because the stupid hunk of metal still had both his money _and_ his milk—and, for some reason, unable to leave now that Hinata stood next to him. He wanted to, but still didn’t. Before Hinata put his money in the slot—and before he could ask Kageyama pointblank as to why he wasn’t leaving already—Kageyama angrily mumbled, “’S’not working.”

     Hinata turned to him, blinking owlishly. He looked back at the vending machine. He looked at it thoughtfully before taking a step back and shoving it hard with his foot just above the dispense slot.

     When the vending machine still hadn’t released the milk, Hinata put his own money into it. It’s not like he needed to look at which brand was teetering on the edge to know which one it was. The past few days, or technically weeks, of mutual avoidance hasn’t made Hinata forget Kageyama’s favorite drink preference. The milk Kageyama had been trying to get fell down along with the carton behind it. Hinata bent down, grabbed the two milks, and thrust one to Kageyama without looking.

     “Thanks,” Kageyama mumbled, taking the milk and stabbing the straw into it. His reply came out more like a grunt if anything, but Hinata didn’t yell at him for it, so that seemed okay enough. Kageyama inconspicuously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking around the empty hallway. He was almost halfway done with his milk when Hinata spoke up.

     “No problem,” then, an afterthought. "Thought you’d be in the gym or somethin’.”

     “Daichi said he’d make me go home early from practice if I practiced in the gym again during lunch.”

     Hinata huffed in a soundless chuckle. His fingers mindlessly toyed with the edges of the milk carton. He didn’t feel as quite as awkward with Kageyama as he had been since that night at the training camp, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable, either. It didn’t seem like Kageyama was going to talk, not that Hinata really expected him, too. Just as he was about to haul ass back to the courtyard, propriety be damned, Kageyama turned to look at him. Those eyes rooted him right where he stood.

     But Kageyama didn’t say anything. He just looked at Hinata. Blankly. That’s all Hinata could tell. Though even with Kageyama's eyes trained on him, Hinata didn’t feel like he had to say anything, and that alone both calmed him and bothered him.

     “So, you’re just lurking in the hall,” Hinata said dryly. Not being able to annoy Kageyama, in the friend kind of way, was weird. But it was all he knew. Plus, he had to cut through the thick air between them, no matter how little he actually wanted to.

     “Wha—I—I’m not _lurking.”_

     “You’re stalking the vending machine, like some sort of milk vampire. You’re just here staring at it during lunch!”

      “Where am I supposed to be then?”

     “I dunno! With Yachi, I guess?”

     Kageyama paused, his eyes widening and flicking away in thought, before directing his pointedly confused look back at Hinata. Hinata himself didn't even know  _why_ he was bringing it up; they've both come to the point where they knew and accepted that practicing separately is what they need to do, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. It's like they were strangers once again, and bringing it up didn't make Hinata feel any better. So why the next thing out of his mouth was exactly that, he had no clue.

     “Considering we're not... y'know..."

_It’d been a day since Yachi had found Kageyama sitting outside on the steps at night, and the training camp’s team practices were over for the day. Still fueled from last night’s revelations, Kageyama didn’t waste any time and went to find Ukai as soon as their diving laps were over with. He found him smoking outside the gym, leaning against one of the columns._

_“Coach. The toss that stops? I wanna figure it out,” Kageyama was silent for a beat before adding. “I’m_ **_going_ ** _to.”_

_Ukai grinned. He took out the cigarette he was smoking and nodded, briefly looking away as he threw it onto the concrete, crushing it with his shoe._

_“Good. I’ll go find Hinata and let him know,” said Ukai, nodding towards the gym. “I’ll be there in a sec—”_

_“No.”_

_Confused, and a bit taken aback, Ukai looked down at Kageyama, who rushed to continue._

       _“I-I just think it’s best for me to improve on my own. I need to figure this out on my own.”_

_“Hmm, I see. Well, it’s not like you guys weren’t already doing that… Okay then. But, Kageyama,” Ukai fixed him with a look. “Improving is good, and realizing what you need to do and improving on your own is good. But not always. Working together—improving together—is just as important. And in some cases, more so.”_

_Kageyama’s face scrunched up in a confused scowl. Ukai let the issue drop, but the look he had on his face told Kageyama that it would only be pushed to the side for the time being._

       _“Not this time, but just know that. For future reference, ‘kay? I’ll be in in a sec’,” Ukai said._

_“Thank you, Coach,” Kageyama replied. He still didn’t know what Ukai meant, but it didn’t matter. He had work to do._

_Kageyama walked back inside. He asked a few players from Ubugawa and Shinzen if he could borrow their empty water bottles. Once he had collected enough he carried them to the net. Before he could begin placing them Yachi walked up to him with the ball cart in tow._

_“Uh…”_

       _“S-sorry! I heard you and Ukai talking—n-not that I was eavesdropping or anything—but if you’re practicing tosses, I could throw them to you. If you want…,” Yachi said, tightening her grip on the ball cart._

_“Oh, uh… yeah.”_

_Dimly, Kageyama thought he should probably say something more, something like “thanks,” but he was honestly surprised Yachi offered to help, even if she had said she would just the night before. Instead, he just ducked his head and began placing the water bottles along a line. He had only lined up the first three before he heard another pair of footsteps._

_“What are you doing, Kageyama?” Hinata asked._

_Without turning around, Kageyama answered. “Starting tonight, I’m not practicing with you.”_

     “—just assumed you’d need extra tutoring during lunch or whatever, considering how stupid you are,” Hinata said, catching Kageyama’s attention once more, moving away from the topic of their practice arrangement. Neither of them felt like being reminded of the current state of things between them.

     “D-Dumbass!”

     Momentarily forgetting their weeks long fight and his own unease, Kageyama chucked his now empty milk carton at Hinata. Hinata yelped, leaping away from the projectile. It still caught his shoulder, but Kageyama could tell that Hinata’s reflexes were getting even better in their time spent apart.

     “If anyone needs more tutoring than me, it’s you! You’re dumber than me!” Kageyama bit back.

     “Am not!”

     “Yeah, you are. I bet you can’t even spell ‘dumb’ in English!”

     “Can to!”

     “Okay, then do it,” Kageyama said, gesturing his arm towards Hinata for emphasis.

     Hinata furrowed his brows, looking down. His mouth moved silently trying to spell it out before he gave up and looked back up at Kageyama.

     “Th-that’s a dumb challenge! Why do I need to know how to spell words in English anyway?”

     Kageyama scoffed, suppressing a smile. But he didn’t have to try very hard, because Hinata shot his own challenge right back at him.

     “I-I can’t spell it out right now,” sputtered Kageyama. “But I know what it _looks_ like.”

     Hinata, standing with one hand balled in a fist and the other tightly holding onto the forgotten milk, opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by another voice before he could even say a word.

      “Well, isn’t this precious,” Tsukishima’s voice filtered in. He walked up from behind Kageyama, hands in his pockets. He didn’t stop, but significantly slowed his pace as he made his way down the hall towards them.

     “The king and his squire haven’t talked for weeks and the first time they do it’s fighting over,” Tsukishima paused, tilting his head as he looked down at the discarded milk on the ground and then back up between Hinata and Kageyama, both thoroughly unimpressed and amused. “Milk and English? Thought it would be about quicks.”

     Hinata bristled. “We’re not fighting.”

     “What do you want, Tsukishima?” Kageyama growled out.

     “Well a quiet, peaceful walk through the halls would be nice.”

     “Then go walk in some other hall,” Hinata said.

     “So,” Tsukishima said, raising an eyebrow. “You admit you’re fighting.”

     A noise of frustration came out of Hinata’s mouth. He was about to protest but the words died in his throat when he noticed Kageyama shaking the bangs into his hair out of the corner of his eye, casting a shadow onto his cheekbones and shielding his eyes from view.

     Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “This,” he gestured his hand between the two in disgust. “Dancing around each other. You’ve both been draggin’ this whole thing out. It’s fuckin’ stupid.”

     Kageyama lowered his head further ever so slightly, shielding his eyes from view even more so while still glaring straight at Tsukishima. His fists clenched. God, this was all just so damn awkward and Tsukishima was taking pleasure in pointing it all out and Kageyama was absolutely going to _explode—_

     “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great not having you,” Tsukishima continued, pointedly looking at Hinata. “Not constantly screaming and arguing, but if it means King over here is going to be be even more broody and sullen because you’re still punishing him… Well then, I’d rather you go back to your screeching if it means he isn’t such a damn black cloud all the time.”

     He turned to look at Kageyama, a knowing glint in his eye, albeit slightly mocking. Kageyama’s face twisted into a deep scowl. Without realizing, he took a step towards Tsukishima. Clenching his fists tighter, he reeled back and settled on his heels.

     “I’m not mad at Kageyama,” Hinata said, bewildered. His whipped his head around to look at Kageyama. Kageyama didn’t meet his gaze. Dread pooled in his stomach.

     Tsukishima hummed, though for once it didn’t seem sarcastic. Instead, Kageyama noted, he looked a bit… pleased? Or more like he saw something that Hinata didn’t, and decided to tell him.

     And with that, Tsukishima put his headphones over his ears and walked down the hall, leaving the heavy air to settle between the duo once more.

Once Tsukishima had reached the end of the hall and rounded the corner and a few minutes had passed with Kageyama still refusing to spare Hinata a glance, Hinata took a step ever so closer to Kageyama. He started to shift in place as inconspicuously as possible, turning the unopened milk over in his hand. Kageyama’s head was still dipped slightly forward, his eyes still shrouded by his bangs. But now it seemed that he was eyeing the thrown milk carton a few paces away rather than glaring a hole in Tsukishima’s back.

The muffled voices of students outside in the courtyard filtered through the empty hallway and between Hinata and Kageyama. Half of lunch had already gone by, though time seemed to have lulled once reality washed over the two once again. The weight in Kageyama’s chest returned as another minute of them standing together in the empty, sunlit hallway passed by. His fingers twitched and the desire to shove the heaviness he felt in his chest away overtook him. Kageyama jerked forward, striding over to the milk carton he’d thrown. He picked it up and promptly threw it in the trash, perhaps a little more forcefully than he had intended.

Kageyama’s sudden movements had jolted Hinata out of his daze, and for a moment his heart sped up at Kageyama just brushing by him and leaving. Hinata couldn’t let him go without clearing whatever Tsukishima had brought up. But when Kageyama stayed put near the trash can, Hinata stood a little straighter, though his next remark was nowhere as confident as he looked.

     “Tsukishima’s a jerk,” Hinata mumbled.

     “Yeah.”

     Hinata hummed in agreement, not taking his eyes off Kageyama. Another minute passed. “Hey, Kageyama… do you think I’m… mad at you?”

     Kageyama didn’t move from his spot. Any movement would give his answer—a _yes—_ away, though he supposed that was all pretty much gone to hell once Tsukishima opened his big mouth.

     “Kageyama.”

     This time, he turned to look at Hinata, nearly jolting in surprise when he saw how earnest Hinata looked.

     “I’m not… I’m not mad at you. You don’t think that, right?”

     Kageyama most certainly did _not_ fidget under Hinata’s gaze.

     “Because I’m not,” Hinata pressed. “I mean, I was that first night. But I got over it afterwards. And at the training camp I was mad but not like… mad. When you did the old toss I got “mad” ‘cause I…”

     This time it was Hinata avoiding Kageyama’s gaze. He gripped the milk carton a little tighter, knitting his brows together in thought. Hinata knew he was never careful with his words, but he felt like it was important to get them right for Kageyama. And for himself, if he was honest. He looked back at Kageyama.

     “I wasn’t mad or whatever, not really. I just… don’t like it when you doubt yourself and all. And I didn’t wanna hold ya back, even though I kept messing up.”

     “Oh.”

     “Y-yeah.”

     Kageyama had no idea what to say. He had no idea even what to think. All he knew was the he couldn’t process this with Hinata in front of him, especially with the way he was looking at him. Like he _needed_ Kageyama to know this, to understand.

     Thankfully, Hinata didn’t press him for an answer. After another moment passed, Hinata spoke again. This time, though, his words were less confident.

     “So, uh… y’know Coach Ukai?”

     Kageyama shifted so that his entire body, and not just his head, faced Hinata. He scrunched his nose. “Ukai?”

     “Coach Ukai’s grandfather, not like, _Ukai_ Ukai,” Hinata nearly rolled his eyes. He huffed out a small ‘dummy’ under his breath, not sure if he cared if Kageyama heard him. Insults were all they ever had to hide behind, Kageyama particularly. Seems like up until their fight, Hinata had already picked up on some of his mannerisms. He scrunched his nose.

     “Yeah, him. He’s been helping me practice ’n stuff.”

     Like most of Hinata and Kageyama’s previous disagreements, it had become an unspoken rule that neither actually talked about what was going on. Kageyama more than accepted this, practically welcomed it. It’s nothing he wasn’t used to and found he didn’t like confrontation. Not when it was steeped in the other’s disappointment. Hinata openly bringing up the fact that they are practicing without each other—that they are still fighting—made the itch to run back to the safety of the classroom return full force. Even though they had worked well during the last few matches at the training camp—even pulling off the new quick once—and exchanged a few quips with each other during the final match with Fukurōdani, Kageyama didn’t feel quite safe. Until he was sure, what they had going now was only a temporary truce. But right now, for whatever reason, he resisted hightailing it away from Hinata. Even him telling Kageyama that he wasn't mad at him made him want to run and hide, if only to process just what Hinata meant. He surely couldn't have not been mad this whole time... right?

     Realizing he’d gone too long without replying, Kageyama grunted out something that sounded like acknowledgement and that it was pretty cool that Hinata was practicing with Coach Ukai’s grandfather, steadily ignoring the insult the other uttered. It didn’t feel right to fire back with one himself. Not right now, at least.

     “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Lot of younger kids are there. It’s fine but sometimes it’s a bit… mmhm,” Hinata replied, shrugging as that thought tailed off.

     “Bet you told him you’d buy the kids snacks after practice so that he’d train you.”

     “Wha—I did not!”

     Kageyama snorted. “Bet you did. Either way don’t think that you’ve won ‘cause you got him to train you first. I’ll be his favorite student soon enough.”

     “Does that mean you’re gonna crash one of our practices then?” Hinata asked, it coming out more as a demand, or statement, than anything.

     “Maybe it does!”

     “Well, you should!”

     “Well duh—Wait, what,” Kageyama blinked, his expression going lax. Hinata just openly stared back at him.

     “You should,” he repeated.

     “Oh... uh, yeah. Maybe sometime,” mumbled Kageyama.

     Hinata jerked his head in a nod. “Good.”

     “Not now,” Kageyama rushed to clarify, hoping he sounded more obstinate than he felt. “But, later.”

     “Good.”

     Hinata turned to look off to the side. He nodded once more, before quickly looking back at Kageyama and rapidly proclaiming he had to get his stuff before lunch ended. He started to race down the hall, but not before adding a quick ‘See you at practice!” before turning the corner.

     A flurry of orange and black was all Kageyama registered before Hinata left him alone in the hallway. It took another minute before he collected himself. Class was going to start soon and he had to get going if he was going to make it on time. Lord knows if he let himself stop to parse the pieces of their conversation out right now he’d be even more useless in class than he already was. But he knew that even when school was over and practice done for the day, he still wouldn't know what to do with the conflicting messages Hinata had given him; he was already at such a loss and was sick of the lack of control he'd felt over this whole situation.

     But he didn't want to keep this stupid cycle he and Hinata had going. And Hinata himself had said he wasn't upset at him, least not anymore. For weeks now it'd been radio silence, then a few clear notes, and then back to static. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had to do something to change it, that he _could_ possibly change it. He knew the answer was to make sure the floating toss was perfected, but Hinata had given him the feeling that there was something more? Something else? But he was left totally helpless as to what that meant, or if he'd had interpreted that correctly. He just didn't know. He was no good at this sort of stuff.

     Kageyama shook his head and began making his way down the hallway. He'd just leave all of... this for later. He had a class to get to.


	3. Chapter 3

     Kageyama let himself collapse onto the ground. He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed, as he caught his breath. A few moments passed before he reopened his eyes. He watched Yachi grab a towel from the bench, along with two water bottles, and begin making her way over towards him.

     “Here,” Yachi said, knocking one of the water bottles against Kageyama’s knee. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes again until he felt the coolness tap against his skin. Kageyama lazily opened his eyes, taking the bottle with a stiff nod in thanks.

     In no time the water bottle is completely emptied. Kageyama makes sure not to crush it in his hands; they have enough already to practice the stop toss but it never hurts to have an extra one on hand. Kageyama set it aside.

     The gym was quiet for the first time in hours. Kageyama wiped the sweat from his face while Yachi, sitting an arms length away, checked her phone.

     “Y’can go home.”

     Yachi jumped, head snapping towards Kageyama.

     Kageyama flinched, quickly adding. “I’m fine here. Like, I’m fine. Here. On my own. Go—you can go home. If y’need to. You don’t have to stay.”

     Yachi’s shoulders relaxed. She locked and pocketed her phone, not taking her eyes off it as she answered.

     “No… it’s alright. Was just checkin’ if my mom had texted. She didn’t.”

     “Oh.”

     Silence fell between the two again. Yachi picked at the fabric of her shorts. Ever since the training camp a week prior she stayed behind with Kageyama to work on Hinata’s toss, though she was careful to never refer to it as that out loud. She was pretty sure that if she wasn’t here to awkwardly stumble over her concern for Kageyama’s well-being and that don’t forget, resting is important and you’ve done a lot today then Kageyama would stay in the gym all night. He didn’t want to leave. Yachi was slowly beginning to understand the passion behind all this extra practice, and liked to think that was the only reason he practically lived in the gym. But on some days it seemed like Kageyama didn’t particularly want to stay. Like he had no place else to go, or any place else he wanted to go, and the late night practices weren’t borne solely from his love for volleyball. On those days Yachi didn’t know what to think.

     “What ‘bout you?” Yachi plucked a stray thread from her shorts.

     Kageyama looked over at Yachi. She met his eyes briefly before turning her attention back at the thread between her fingers.

     “Your mom. Or dad. They need you home?”

     Kageyama looked at the floor between him, brows furrowing.

     “No,” he replied.

     “But—you didn’t check your phone…”

     “Don’t need to.”

     “Oh.”

     Yachi sat up straighter. It was easier to talk to Kageyama without being such a nervous wreck. She'd been practicing with him the last few weeks every night for hours on end on top of her regular manager duties. She even saw him during lunch a few times to help him with his classwork. Getting used to each others presence, even having a few conversations here and there, were inevitable. She learned that he's never done another sport other than volleyball, can't play any instruments but can recognize instantly if the pitch is slightly off or different, and has never tried mangoes. In turn, Yachi's revealed that she has tried mangoes and loves them to bits, once joined the yearbook club in middle school only to run out the minute she saw the flash of the camera, and loves elephants. Kageyama had asked her why, they don't do much? She had shrugged, saying they were gentle. Kageyama had merely pinched his face and nodded.

     It was still hard to read him, but Yachi liked to think Kageyama at least didn't feel uncomfortable around her. A little awkward, maybe, but not uncomfortable. She still danced around certain topics as if they were a landmine, but even when he got annoyed it wasn't as scary. She was starting to think it was partly his choice of words, partly his tone, and maybe something else.

     Her eyes scanned the gym; only one net was still up. A few empty plastic water bottles stood in a line, while others were laid on their side. The sky outside was now completely dark. The empty ball cart was parked near the net, forgotten in lieu of all the volleyballs that littered the gym floor. Her gaze turned back towards Kageyama.

     Kageyama cleared his throat. “D’ya need to go home—Well not need but like, do you want to go home? I know y’said that your mom didn’t text you but I am fine here, it’s okay. It’s really fine I can do this on my own. N-not that I don’t want you here but if, like, you know…”

     “Kageyama,” Yachi chuckled, her nerves driven away by Kageyama’s rambling and the flustered appearance. “It’s really okay.”

     “Oh,” Kageyama’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression once more. “Okay. Yeah, just didn’t want Daichi to get mad at me for makin’ you stay here.”

     “Mhm, yeah,” Yachi replied unconvinced. “It is getting late, though. Maybe we should start cleaning up.”

     “Yeah.”

     Kageyama didn’t move to stand up. Suddenly he felt weighed down. He wasn’t physically exhausted, and school wasn’t particularly that difficult today, but he just couldn’t get up. A weight he couldn’t place kept him from following Yachi’s suggestion, kept him from responding, kept him from caring that he wasn’t even acknowledging Yachi.

     Kageyama was so lost in his feeling of heaviness, as he so aptly called it in his mind, that he didn’t notice Yachi stand, pause, and carefully sit back down again.

     They sat like that for a little while. Kageyama blinked slowly, not looking at or really thinking of anything. He liked this; yes, he didn’t want to keep Yachi here any more than what she wanted, but over the weeks he found he liked Yachi’s company. But today he was just so tired. His mind felt so tired. But when Yachi broke the silence, he found he didn’t mind that either.

     “I think,” Yachi said softly. "I think you pretty much got this toss nailed down. Not that I don’t mind helping you practice, I really don’t, but I don’t get why you work so hard at it—why you’re so worried?”

     “Because I love volleyball,” he shrugged. "And... if I'm gonna do something, gonna show something, I'd rather show nothing than something half-assed. So might as well.."

     He let himself trail off. Yachi wasn't surprised by what he said, more by the fact that he had actually said it. Out loud. To Yachi.

     Progress is progress, her mother's voice rang out, Welcome it. You can't fight it anyway.

     “I guess I understand that but... I still don't get it. Not really. But sometimes... sometimes I wish I loved something that much to put so much effort into,” Yachi admitted, chuckling bitterly to herself, “School, anything.”

     “Yeah, but… volleyball’s the only thing I care about."

     Yachi looked back at Kageyama. He was staring down at the water bottle in his hand, eyebrows pinched forward, the same way he looked at the volleyball in his hands before a serve. She waited.

     “I love it, it’s everything, but sometimes…” He trailed off, shrugging again. “I dunno, sometimes it seems like putting all your love into only one thing doesn’t seem all that smart.”

     That was the longest sentence, Yachi thought, Kageyama had ever said to her, not including any of the nervous, almost angry rambling he would do whenever she took a second too long to react. It didn’t hit her that this was the most introspective thing he’d ever uttered until his shoulders rolled forward and his head ducked into his collarbone. She directed her gaze back to the gym, hoping he didn't see her shocked expression. She knew Kageyama wasn't dumb, but all he ever put effort and brain power into was volleyball. Maybe that's how he came to this...? Because volleyball was a part of the equation, the situation, the thinking process?

     “Maybe. But not putting your love into anything isn’t that good either.”

     “You’ll find somethin’ too. Your own… volleyball… ? Even if it’s not volleyball.”

     “I think the word you’re lookin’ for is hobby,” she replied, amusement laden in her voice.

     “W-well you know what I mean!"

     “Yeah, yeah, I know, Kageyama,” Yachi took another swig of water, wiping the excess that dribbled down her chin. “Just wish it’d come sooner rather than later. How’d you get into volleyball anyway?”

     Kageyama’s face shuttered. He hunched forward, not really looking at anything. He opened his mouth to say something a few times but nothing came out. It took him almost half a minute later to recover and respond.

     “I—I didn’t like it at first,” he nearly whispered. Yachi strained to hear it, but she heard it all the same. He continued. “But I kept trying. Figured what the hell, ya know.” Kageyama shrugged. God, he hoped his voice sounded natural enough. Probably not. But maybe Yachi won’t notice, or won’t say anything.

     Yachi forced the shock off her face. She hummed, steadfastly ignoring the first part. Kageyama was clearly almost ashamed that he didn’t instantly love the sport he had now devoted his life too, or, at least, it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about that time.

     “I don’t think that’ll happen to me. Or, well, I—I don’t think I’m patient enough, or whatever.”

     Kageyama’s brow furrowed. “You’re were patient when you help me a-and Hinata with homework.”

     “That’s different.”

     “Mhm not really, no. Y’seem like… like, you know—like a girl.”

     She bristled. “What does that mean!”

     When Kageyama reared back, sitting ramrod straight, Yachi felt her anxiety tight itself up in knots, but she refused to back down. She may have even been glaring right back at Kageyama. Who knows.

     “N-nothing bad! You’re a girl!”

     “Yeah, and?”

     “Girls are n-nice! And sweet! Like how moms should be—are.”

     She couldn’t lie, Yachi felt the anxiety loosen and something akin to warmth bloom in her chest. Compliments weren’t her weakness per se, but she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride whenever she received one. She felt like she did something right for a change. Regardless, she told herself there was something bigger at play here. Her honor, or something. She pushed back.

     “Not every girl is nice and sweet or becomes a mom, y’know!”

     “I mean—I just mean, you seem good at it!” Kageyama ran a hand through his hair, his words loud and his arms wrapped around his stomach. “I dunno if you like it but the tutoring, being the manager, the extra practices... I don’t know you just seem good at taking care of things. Of people, I don’t know!”

     “Oh.”

     Yachi let herself slump against the wall. Kageyama’s chin was tucked back into his collarbone again. He was glaring down at his lap. She looked down at her hands, tracing the stitching on her shorts.

     “Th-thanks,” she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “But I don’t think so. I mean—I’m just doin’ my job, y’know? Don’t think I’m like, _good_ at it, y’know? Not like Shimizu is, anyway.”

     “Well I think you are!” Kageyama bit back. His eyes widened at the sharpness in his tone. He looked down again, his voice noticeably softer. "And why do you have to be good at being a manger 'like Shimizu?' You can just be good at it like you."

     “But I guess it doesn’t really matter,” he said, plowing on. “If you don’t like stuff like that, then whatever. Find somethin' else. You can just do what makes you happy. Who cares if you don’t love it, or if it’s not what you love the most? Who cares so long as it makes you feel good? Like I love volleyball and I want to keep getting better, and shit. Of course. But, I dunno, even if I'm not the best, I still like it. I still want to play.”

     “But trying, I guess, can… I don’t know, change it. Makes all the difference ’n’ all that shit,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

     Yachi stilled, her hand tracing the stitching on her shorts falling to the floor. She liked being the manager, and even tutoring was sometimes rewarding. When Shimizu smiled at Yachi she could feel her heart fill up with this… static, like the buzzing sound bees make. Yachi supposed that sounded bad, but it felt amazing. And even though Tsukishima clearly wouldn’t make a good tutor for honestly anyone and shouldn’t be a measure of her worth as a tutor, she did feel her shoulders straighten and her chin lift on its own accord whenever Hinata or Kageyama solved a problem correctly on their own.

     She did like these things, but she wasn’t passionate about them. But maybe she could be. Kageyama didn’t like volleyball at first—he even said so himself. Maybe she needed to try, though. She couldn’t really find it in herself to do just that, but the realization that she should try…

     She had a feeling she wouldn’t look down at others being so clearly invested in something as much anymore. She still didn’t get it, not quite, but maybe that was the point.

     Now that she thought about it, neither Kageyama nor her own mother were ‘feelers.’ In their professions of sorts, both required them to have technical skills and understand what they were doing with. That obviously requires actions with specific motivations behind it to achieve the desired result. But like Kageyama and Hinata’s quick, they just do it. And her own mother has said that it doesn’t matter if she feathered the mask at the right intensity, or created the color scheme that was asked of her, if it didn’t feel right then it didn’t feel right.

     And, Yachi thought, all of them take what they were given with or make and run with it. They go back and try to make it work, not knowing if it’ll turn out right, but not worrying because it sure would be worse just to leave the design or the quick as is. And, like Kageyama was saying now, it didn't have to be the best. She could be content with what made her feel good. Feel happy.

     “Yeah,” replied Yachi lamely, a heavy weight in her chest.

     “Volleyball’s the best, though.”

     At that, Yachi couldn’t help but chuckle. Nerves dissipated, she sarcastically agreed. Kageyama turned to face her and she didn’t have the heart to point out that her agreement was an exaggeration, not an indicator, of her stance with volleyball. He just looked so surprised but happy, even when he clearly was forcing away a growing grin.

     And the next thing that would come out of her mouth, Yachi would insist, was due to some sort of possession. Maybe it was the full moon, or maybe it was a demon, or maybe she was just so tired that she couldn't tell the difference between her own thoughts and a conversation with a whole other human being. A whole other human being who happened to be the person she not only made the comment to, but made the comment about.

     “Y’know, you’re not as mean or dimwitted as people like to think you are.”

     This was it: she was going to die. If not by Kageyama than by her own embarrassment and shame. Spontaneous combustion, that's a thing, right? Yeah, definitely. Spontaneous combustion at age 15. Yachi Hitoka. Dead and dead and more dead.

     Kageyama sputtered, head whipping to glare at Yachi. “Y-yeah, well, well you’re not as nervous or whatever as you act, or—or as other people say!”

     Yachi nearly collapsed with relief. Thank every damn force in the universe that Kageyama was simple.

     He was currently acting as if he just threw the most vile curse at her, his glare deepening when Yachi let out a chuckle. It wasn't funny, mind you. But if the corners of his mouth twitched up then no one, he reasoned, had to know about it. Least of all Yachi.

     In an effort to hide that he didn’t know what else to say, Kageyama stood up and began walked over to the net. They really did need to clean up and go home. While he was taking down the net he wondered if Yachi understood that, even though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to wonder long; the sound of volleyballs being tossed into the forgotten cart was answer enough. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel smug. Hinata surely would’ve complained at his brashness, but right now he just felt okay, almost peaceful-like. He missed the yelling, the don’t decide when we’re done, Kageyama, he really did. Though this was nice, too. He liked to think he and Yachi were becoming friends of sorts.

     He cradled that hope in his chest, but refused to nurture it (as much as he could, at least). That kind-of stuff never worked out, he told himself. Then he thought of Hinata. His old partner who could have become a friend, too. He didn't miss him, he didn't. They still saw each other at practice every morning and afternoon. It wasn't the same but... Kageyama sighed, carefully wrapping up the net. Would it be so bad for him to want that competitive camaraderie back? And the languid companionship he likes to imagine he has with Yachi? He already knew the answer but he still hoped he could have both one day.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

     And one day it stops. One day Kageyama tosses to Hinata and Hinata jumps. The sound of the volleyball smacking against the gym floor echoes and Kageyama can swear his heart beats match it. It isn’t until he looks at Hinata and sees him already grinning at him, eyes wide. And he knows they’re back. They scream and can’t believe it. And of course Kageyama yells at Hinata and of course Hinata takes it all in stride because he knows even excitement comes out as gruff for Kageyama. Because he knows Kageyama. At least, better than anyone else has in a long time. Hinata smiles, jumping up as he slaps him hard on the shoulder. His touch is warm. Grounding. The touch of his teammate, of his partner.

     Kageyama stutters and can’t focus on anything after that. He’s vaguely aware of Hinata jumping up and down in front of him but that’s about it. Vague memories tickle at the back of his mind. Memories that are both old and recent yet cut him up all the same. Memories of solitary lunches and of loneliness him even in the middle of a crowd. Kageyama jolts forward, retaking his position on the court. His heart felt too light and now too heavy. He’s off-kilter but shuts his racing heart down. He’s not going down the road. Not when Hinata is jumping for another spike but Kageyama knows he’s going to dump it instead. His heart fills with mirth, and he just plays.

 

     Practice ends for the night in a whirlwind. Hinata’s already off trying to get permission from Daichi and Ukai to use the gym for both of them, but the captain and coach aren’t budging. Kageyama is still standing still, bottle in hand and not looking at anything in particular. There’s a connection of happiness and relief that thrums pooling somewhere in his chest that he doesn’t quite allow himself to feel. He’s still on edge because this may be what he’d wanted and worked for but it was so easily taken away before. It could happen again.

     Kageyama knows himself. Well, he knows himself to a point—to this point; he won’t let what happened before happen a second time. He’ll try to be better. A voice in the back of his mind grumbles good-naturedly saying it wasn’t all him. He and Hinata both worked for this quick, this understanding, this partnership. That has to stand for something. And, Kageyama muses as he watches Hinata orbit around Sugawara, he knows now. He knows what can happen and how and why. It’s not foolproof and he is far from perfect, but he’s going to try. He tucks this information away as Hinata slumps towards him.

     “They said no,” Hinata says, eyebrows furrowed and pouting. He snatches his water bottle from ground and chugs it.

     “Told you,” Kageyama replies, ever combative.

     “Yeah, but—but I thought Sugawara would…” he trails off, harrumphing.

     “That’s how you’ll get a target on both our backs; tryin’ to go over Daichi and Ukai’s head like that,” Kageyama replies, finishing off his water bottle and tossing it in the trash.

     “You’re actin’ like you don’t even wanna practice more!”

     “Of course I wanna practice more! But I think we did good today and ’m tired,” he admits.

     Hinata is throughly scandalized. He jumps in front of Kageyama and brandishes the bottle in his hand like a weapon, pointing it at Kageyama. He starts sputtering at Kageyama, who replies with just as much vigor. They’re both so lost in their argument they don’t notice Kinoshita and Yachi walking up to them until they speak.

     “C’mon you two,” Kinoshita says rolling his eyes. “Help clean up. But first, Yachi?”

     Kinoshita holds a mop in each hand. He gestures to Yachi with his head. She jolts a little at being addressed, but relaxes within a second. She’s holding a clipboard and looks down at it briefly before addressing the two first-years again.

     “You, uh, both took home your uniform last time, I think. I need them back to wash before the tournament starts.”

     When the boys continue to stare at her and not answer, Yachi gulps.

     “I, uh, I asked you to bring them…?”

     Her face feels too hot. Kinoshita groans, shaking his head, and she grips the clipboard tighter.

     “Don’t tell me you forgot—”

     “Kinoshita, come help take down the net!” Sugawara yells from somewhere behind them.

     Kinoshita glances over his shoulder. He then looks back at the two, leveling them with a look, before thrusting the mops towards the wide-eyed duo and jogging over to the net. He leaves Kageyama, Hinata, and Yachi staring in silence.

     “If you don’t have them I can just—”

     “Wait! I think—Lemme check!” Hinata interrupts.

     Hinata runs over to his bag, dragging the mop with him. He rifles through his duffel until a peek of orange pokes out from the bottom. Hinata yanks it out and closes his bag before going through Kageyama’s. He, thankfully, finds Kageyama also somehow remembered his jersey. Hinata doesn’t bother to close Kageyama’s bag too nicely. Revenge for that dump, he thinks. He skips over back to Yachi with both jerseys in hand.

     “Here you go! Sorry ‘bout that. Slipped my mind for a moment.”

     Yachi’s visibly relieved, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was just worried I wouldn’t be able to get ‘em washed in time. Not that it would’ve caused a big issue! Wait, not that it would’ve been a big issue if you hadn’t, I uh—”

     Kageyama glances at Yachi while she sputters. Kageyama cuts her panicked rambling off, pointedly looking at Hinata when she looks at him. “Hey, don’t go through other peoples things, dumbass!”

     “But if I hadn’t then I wouldn't've found your jersey and then we would’ve gotten Yachi in trouble!”

     “I wouldn’t’ve gotten in trouble—”

     “I was gonna get it outta my own bag! You’re just nosey!”

     Yachi watches them for a minute before interrupting them.

     “Thanks for remembering the jerseys. I’ll take care of them, don’t worry,” Yachi says. She ticks off their names on the clipboard and takes the uniforms from Hinata’s hands.

     Hinata and Kageyama, now subdued, nod. Hinata’s the first to speak, cradling the mop in the crook of his elbow.

     “We know. Thanks, Yachi!” He beams. Yachi returns it with a small nod and even smaller smile.

     “Yeah, thanks,” Kageyama parrots. “Thanks for taking care of us.”

     “Yeah!” Hinata yells, in equal parts agreement and indignation (only at Kageyama, of course). He’s smiling, though. “You’ve helped us out a lot. It’s all thanks to you, ya know!”

     “W-we all take care of each other,” Yachi gets out, cheeks warming. She moves to turn away and let the boys finally get to cleaning, but stops midway.

     “Oh, and just so you both know,” she begins. “I’m happy you two are okay now.”

     Yachi promptly turns on her heel and dashes away. Hinata watches her go. He jolts when Kageyama nudges him, smirk on his face.

     “C’mon, let’s get cleaning. I’m hungry and tired.”

     Hinata, never to be outdone by Kageyama, shoves him back harder and races Kageyama to the end of the gym, mop towing behind.


End file.
